Modeling
by Sinedra
Summary: Irene has managed to get Garrus to sit for an impromptu sketch session, but there's something on her boyfriend's mind. Set between ME2 and ME3


"Don't move."

"I'm not moving."

"I said stop!"

"Irene," her translator hummed with an angry buzzing. Garrus was getting impatient. "I am NOT – for the last time – NOT moving."

"Your mouth is." Irene chuckled as her turian shifted for the fifth time. "Stop being impatient, I'm almost done." She bit her lip and looked over the tablet she was using to sketch. Eyes bright as she studied her boyfriend, who was, after some convincing, now sitting at the end of her bed. Being her unwilling model.

Garrus tugged at his civvies, raising a brow plate in a turian show of exasperation. "That's your third time telling me that," he went from leaning back, to resting his elbows on his knees, "is there any chance you'll be done before the reapers invade?"

"If you keep your bony ass glued to one place. It's like you have ants in your pants."

"What are ants?"

She laughed and leaned over her tablet, hiding the contents from her boyfriend. "Don't worry about it right now. You're just being squirmy. Now quiet, you're distracting me." The translator filled her ears with ringing again. "And stop sassing me without words, you're going to give me a headache."

"Maybe you should upgrade your translator."

"So you can give me a migraine with your complaining instead? Nah." She pulled the stylus across the screen again; her hand starting to cramp from holding it so long. She wished she was confident with shading, she wanted to capture the color of his eyes. How sharp they were, and how frustrated he was getting. That she could convey the emotions she was so much better at reading, the nuances in his behavior – his posture – that said more than human expressions. "Why are you so fidgety?"

He shifted again and this time the humming turned to a quiet shrill that had her head snapping up to look at him. That was one she'd never heard before. Garrus refused to meet her eyes and she smirked. "No reason at all, turian training. They keep us on our toes. Never know when we could be ambushed, sitting still leaves you vulnerable."

"Garrus Vakarian," Irene purred and his eyes met hers, "you're embarrassed about something. Now spill it. There are to be no secrets between the two of us."

Turians don't blush, but his face plates were pressed so tight together and the anxious sounds coming over her translator made it practically the same thing. "Irene…"

"Yes?"

"I uhh… I thought… perhaps we might…" He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and steeled himself. Her heart fluttered; she loved how nervous he still was about all this. It was all still so new. "Well, I wanted to give you a real date. Not just a night with some cheap wine, so I made reservations to a new restaurant that opened in the Presidium and uh…" He took another breath and held her eyes. His posture straightened, and she could sense him trying to be confident. "Irene, tonight I'm taking you out to a fancy dinner. You should wear that new dress Liara picked up for you."

A soft smile covered her face and she felt giddy and girlish. Like she was in her teens again. They hadn't had a chance to do anything together, outside of some nights cuddling. Nights spent trying to learn each other between forced recovery periods by den mother Chakwas. Actually going out made it all feel more real, like they were a couple and not just a fling. "Sounds perfect," her smile felt a mile wide, "I promise not to wear my N7 armor and to leave the guns at home. You can count on me to be dressed and ready at-"

"Ten!"

"-ready at ten, sir." She gave him a cheeky salute. "Now can you hold still?"

His guilty look made her stop again, just as she'd brought the stylus back to her tablet. A bit nervous herself. "There's one last thing," he began.

"And that is?" Was something wrong? Was he having second thoughts? Did he want to keep them a secret? A turian-human relationship was still considered a bit taboo… the contact wars were still too recent.

"Irene, I need to visit the head."

She should have been mad, but instead she laughed. Incredibly relieved that it was something so simple. "Men, you couldn't just tell me? Or get up and go?"

"And ruin such beautiful art you learned at, where was it again?"

"Self-taught, thank you!"

"Right, spirits, what kind of boyfriend would I be to just up and walk out?" She rolled her eyes and waved him off. He stretched with a groan and she whistled at him, knowing it was a sore spot since he didn't have the lips with which to make the noise. Garrus leaned over and placed a "kiss" on her forehead, actually sighing at a frequency she could hear as she kissed him back. As he walked passed, he looked down at her tablet. Curiosity getting the better of him. "Irene?" His voice had lost much of his humor. "What is THAT?"

She gave him such an innocent smile, knowing he wouldn't be able to stay mad for too long. "It's you, silly."

"That?" He leaned over her shoulder, his breath on her ear. His talons brushing aside her brown hair knowing it would draw a soft sigh out of her. "Irene, I truly hope that's not me, because I would look uglier than a krogan."

She pouted, "I should tell Wrex you said that. You don't like it?"

His hesitation was obvious and she kept her lower lip pushed out. The action made him uncomfortable as much as it made him feel guilty. His indecision hummed across the translator. "I guess I just don't understand human art, it's not… bad." He nuzzled her neck, aiming for something more than a sigh. "I guess the real question is, why are my arms so small?"

"Perspective."

"Ah, right, sure. I'll be right back, perhaps I'll understand better when I don't have to piss."

As he walked up the stairs, she allowed a wicked smirk to cross her lips. Waiting till the bathroom door shut before she started laughing. Tearing up as she looked down at what she'd been drawing for an hour. On the screen was a bunch of lines, what Garrus would soon learn as human "stick art". It was a step up from that, but only because her stick drawing had a gun and teeth and large eyes. What Irene had drawn was a raptor… a stick raptor. With tiny arms, his own little visor, cute little tail, several sharp teeth, and yelling "I ARKANGUL, I KEEL U!" The barrel of a sniper rifle clutched in his ridiculously tiny hands as he threatened the sky.

She was a horrible person and she would enjoy making it up to him tonight.


End file.
